The toxic heart of advertising

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Occasionally, a topic will come along that almost no one is willing to talk about. Toxicity is one of them. Peeling back layers of hostility and abuse to reveal the corrosive underbelly of agency life, it appears, is in few people’s interest, least of all those keen to remain employable.

And yet, toxicity, in all its forms, lurks in every corner of the advertising world. In its culture of overwork, in its guilt-tripping, gaslighting, exclusion, favouritism, intimidation, and public shaming. In its sexism and racism, in its demands for Palestinian creatives to ‘compartmentalise the genocide in Gaza’, and in the acceptance of fear as a motivator. 

The result? Burnout, attrition, and a steady erosion of people’s mental health. And while it’s easy to blame clients and the intense, competitive nature of the industry, at the heart of systemic toxicity lies bad leadership. Of course, there are exceptions, this is not a blanket accusation, but too many agencies are willing to turn a blind eye to abusive management. 

Zahir Mirza, a former executive creative director at Oliver and group creative director at DDB, stresses the importance of not generalising, having worked at agencies that took mental health, well-being, and work-life balance seriously. “But that said, there are agencies that obsess about the bottom line to the detriment of the health and well-being of their employees,” he states. “And so, while they push out glossy PR articles touting their culture and healthy work environment, behind closed doors, they are working their employees to the bone.”

The industry is brutally competitive, especially given the climate of consolidation, when the pressure on leaders to deliver results is unforgiving, but that does not excuse bullying, or the erosion of basic workplace dignity. “There are some hard-charging leaders who rule through fear,” adds Mirza. “Rather than inspiring their people to bring their best game every day and leading by example, they bully them into submission through a culture of intimidation and consequences. Some leaders have been held to account. And yet others continue to thrive without repercussions because a healthy business bottom line is their immunity card.”

As the podcaster and creative coach Shaheed Peera wrote on LinkedIn recently, some creative directors are akin to King Joffrey from Game of Thrones, sitting on a throne made of dead ideas. “Work gets killed for no clear reason, other than: ‘Keep going… It’s not quite there.’ And the dreaded: ‘Just make it pop more.’ Translation: I don’t know what I want, but I’ll know it when the head of strategy likes it. Maybe. Feedback? Pointless. Direction? Missing. Ego? Front and centre. This isn’t creative direction. It’s Game of Egos with mood boards.”

For insight into the chronic failings of senior management, look no further than an explosive email, purportedly from a former employee, that accuses regional managers at a major global PR company of all sorts of nefarious activities. These include toxic leadership, employee intimidation, unethical client dealings, and suppressed HR complaints. The email also claims that senior regional executives have ignored or protected this behaviour, leading to mass resignations, reputational damage, and calls for an independent investigation.

The topic is so sensitive that, of the dozen or so agencies contacted by ArabAd, only one agreed to comment. That agency was TBWA\Raad. We asked Claudinia Harper, the agency’s director of people, why so many leaders are allowed to rule through fear and intimidation.

“Because the industry still confuses performance with martyrdom, and domination with strength,” she replies. “There’s a long-standing, deeply romanticised idea in advertising that greatness must come at a cost. That working until you break shows passion. That fear gets results. And that tough, old-school leaders—the ones who shout, pressure, and intimidate—are just ‘demanding’, not damaging. They’re seen as strong, decisive, even iconic. But strength isn’t how loud you are. It’s how safe your team feels to speak up, to push back, to thrive. Until we stop glorifying toxic behaviour under the guise of ‘high standards’, this contradiction between values and lived experience will persist.”

TBWA\Raad has let go of leaders who consistently undermined the agency environment, even if they were considered high performers. Why? Because leadership isn’t about output at all costs, explains Harper. It’s about creating the conditions where others can succeed without fear. That accountability, she says, is not one-directional. 

“Our performance and growth conversations are two-way: employees are invited to share feedback with and about their leaders. We’ve built clear, accessible pathways for employees to raise concerns and when they do, we take them seriously. Every concern about leadership behaviour is investigated, and we work collaboratively with the employee and leaders to resolve it whether through coaching, structured support, or, when needed, decisive action.” 

One of the biggest concerns around gathering honest feedback, however, is that people often fear retaliation if they speak up. There are recent, documented cases where employees have raised complaints, refused unreasonable working hours, or pushed back against an executive creative director, only to be dismissed within days. Fear of retribution drives anonymity, not just in the accounts featured in this report, but across the communications industry. 

“The fear of retaliation is real—across the industry, and across many companies,” admits Harper. “We can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. And it’s exactly why we’ve done three things to introduce safeguards to ensure feedback is more than theory.” Firstly, TBWA\Raad has made feedback a routine part of how the agency works, not a singular, high-stakes event. Secondly, it provides anonymous, low-friction ways to raise issues, because not everyone is comfortable raising concerns directly. And thirdly, it has backed its values with action.

“We’ve shown, through the actions we’ve taken, that we take concerns seriously and don’t tolerate retaliation,” explains Harper. “There have been situations where employee concerns about leadership behaviour led to coaching, formal disciplinary interventions, and, in some cases, leadership exits. That said, we know trust has to be earned, not announced. So we continue to invest in strengthening this system by documenting outcomes, closing the loop with those who raise concerns, and making it very clear across the agency: speaking up should never cost you your job.”

All of this assumes, of course, that HR operates in the interests of an agency’s employees—a premise that many in the industry challenge. As an agency insider told ArabAd, never make the mistake of believing HR is your friend. It is there to protect the company, not employees. “One must understand that ultimately HR are employees, too, at the end of the day,” states Mirza. “And in some agencies, they have to toe the line like everyone else. If they flag egregious corporate practices, they can, and will, be ushered out.”

“It’s true. HR’s role is often misunderstood, and in some cases, misused,” says Harper. “But when HR has real voice, clear accountability, and a values-aligned seat at the leadership table, it becomes a force for integrity, safety, and systemic fairness. When embedded in decision-making—not sidelined—HR can drive environments where people are heard, protected, and supported to thrive.” At TBWA\Raad, the talent team is included in strategic decisions, talent planning, and cultural accountability. Employees are protected by structure, not sentiment, adds Harper. The agency has also introduced flexible and remote working options, leadership coaching, and clear escalation paths to protect employees from burnout.

Other agencies have similar policies in place. Whether they are adhered to is another matter. According to Mirza, too many networks have forgotten their employees are their greatest asset. “If they are happy, the culture within the agency blooms and flourishes. They create the kind of work that helps your business grow. A lot of big network agencies have forgotten that. They are beholden to creating shareholder value and you are seeing the results of that. It’s the reason why it’s the age of independent agencies who prioritise their people over profit.”

For Harper, the real danger to agency culture isn’t Gen Zs asking for work-life balance. It’s leaders who still think fear is a strategy. “We won’t build the next era of creative greatness with last decade’s leadership models,” she asserts. “Not if we want our talent to stay, grow, and thrive. Strength is not how loud you are. It’s how safe people feel around you that determines how brave they get to be. It’s how consistently you model the values you claim to uphold. If we want a better industry, we need better leaders. And if we want better leaders, we need structure, clarity, and the courage to hold even our stars accountable.”

FIRST PERSON ACCOUNTS

First account 

On my third day, I was given two major briefs and told to deliver content samples and strategy. No onboarding, no training, no support, just ‘do it.’ I came from a directing background and knew nothing of copywriting. My third and fourth days were connected. I came in at nine and left at 6pm the following day. I thought it was a test, so for the first three months I said, ‘Whatever they ask, I’ll do.’ On my first weekend, I received a nine-minute voice note from an account manager. I’d never had a phone call that long. She told me a client didn’t like a new hire’s work, and I had to help her. She gave me her number, I called her, we met, we did three rounds of creative direction, and that was my first weekend.

That’s how it continued. You receive a brief on Friday, work all weekend, submit, and present to the client on Monday morning. I never had a weekend off. I never left work before 11pm. On Saturdays and Sundays, I would work double in a cafe near my home, and the waiters would come to me and say, ‘Man, take a break.’ I kept telling myself, ‘You have a job, be thankful, just keep going.’ There were days when I had to take Lexotanil to manage my anxiety, or whenever I felt I was going to have a heart attack, because when you finish, even when you submit, your body doesn’t believe the danger is over. I needed that pill just to sleep for three hours. 

In seven months, I worked on 40 pitches, although I’d been hired as an art director on one account. If the agency won a new piece of business, it wouldn’t hire anyone. I’d end up doing everything. Creative direction, art direction, research, graphic design, motion graphics, copywriting, pitch design, and presentation. You do everything until you die. That was the system. It’s like you’re working for a clothing company in Burma, you know? You’re a cheap machine that can make them money.

The owner of the agency was a lunatic who gave all his friends jobs, so it was toxic from the top down. If you pushed back, they would lash out, almost like a child having a tantrum. It caused me so much stress that every half an hour I had to go for a cigarette. Then they’d say, ‘You’re smoking too much, you take too many breaks.’ They’d guilt-trip you into everything—being overworked, exploited, emotionally strained. I remember the owner told us he’d sold his car to pay our salaries. It was framed as a grand, selfless gesture, but was a lie designed to guilt us into remaining loyal and working harder.

Second account

It began with small acts of aggression and intimidation. The agency’s executive creative director would criticise me on group chats, reassign my work without explanation—always upwards, always to himself—and make thinly-veiled threats. He criticised my ‘energy’, my ‘urgency’, my ‘ambition’, my ‘commitment’. Nothing was positive. I kept quiet. 

Even when his comments became openly toxic, I said nothing. I didn’t want to lose my job, and the simple act of defending myself felt impossible. During a performance appraisal, he told me the agency had a long list of creatives with stronger CVs ready to replace me. To him, that was encouragement. To me, it was a reminder that, no matter how hard I worked, I was disposable. Someone to be discarded without a second thought. 

At some point, the abuse shifted. I was told to ‘compartmentalise the genocide in Gaza’, despite him knowing full well that dozens of my family had been killed. How do you even respond to that? To be asked to set aside an unimaginable loss to keep up appearances at work. That remark, and the absence of any meaningful support from senior management, had a profound impact on my emotional and mental well-being.

I withdrew into my shell. My creativity suffered. How can anyone be creative in such an environment? You need safety. You need trust. You need to feel seen, not scrutinised. Creativity doesn’t survive in fear. It retreats, it shuts down, it disappears. Slowly, I noticed colleagues treating me differently, as if the doubts planted by one person had begun to spread. I was made to feel like the problem. That I was bad at my job. I withdrew further into my shell. 

As soon as I was free, I felt I could breathe again. The tightness in my chest eased. It took time, but slowly, the fog began to lift. I could think clearly, speak freely, and create again, not out of fear or pressure, but from a place of possibility.

Third account

When you work in a toxic environment, it becomes the status quo. You get used to a certain level of micromanagement, time watching, scapegoating, even bullying. I’ve lived in the region for almost two decades, and I’ve had my fair share of toxic workplaces, whether it was embedded in the company culture or trickled down from a direct boss.

Looking back, I thought it made me tougher. Thriving in a difficult environment while staying out of politics felt like a badge of tenacity and resilience. But is that really how people want to show up in a place they spend most of their waking hours?

Today, I’m in an environment that feels like the complete opposite. I’m trusted to make big decisions. I have autonomy to lead my function in a way that makes sense. My leader backs me. And only now, almost 20 years later, do I truly understand that all this talk about company culture actually does matter.

Over time, that trust and autonomy have made me more loyal than any title, salary increase, or cool opportunity ever could. I still get approached with new roles now and then, but before I look at the job description, I ask one thing first: what is the culture like?